


Just one night

by everythingremainsconnected



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, I Will Go Down With This Ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 20:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9090439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingremainsconnected/pseuds/everythingremainsconnected
Summary: Amanda sat in the van, surrounded by psychic-vampiric-energy-eating-anarchists, and realised she’d never felt so at home. Dirk had parroted on about a lot of things with questionable accuracy, Amanda admitted, but he was right about interconnectedness. Whatever ridiculous circumstances had led her to this point, just existing with these men who were already closer to her than her own brother, Amanda wouldn’t change it for anything.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Всего одна ночь](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9200270) by [Baefrances](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baefrances/pseuds/Baefrances)



> This takes place the night before the CIA shows up to ruin everything...

Amanda sat in the van, surrounded by psychic-vampiric-energy-eating-anarchists, and realised she’d never felt so at home. Dirk had parroted on about a lot of things with questionable accuracy, Amanda admitted, but he was right about interconnectedness. Whatever ridiculous circumstances had led her to this point, just _existing_ with these men who were already closer to her than her own brother, Amanda wouldn’t change it for anything.  


She glanced at Martin while he drove. Her picture had led to all of this, had made Martin look for her. As soon as the Rowdy van had pulled up out the front of her house she could feel him. Them. It took her a few days to figure out what her instincts were trying to tell her, and beneath the meds and her damn illness that was quite the feat.  


Martin checked on her in the rear view, as he had taken to doing frequently, and Amanda smiled. Cross cracked a foul joke and a beer simultaneously. Amanda couldn’t remember ever laughing so much in her life. Just as she reached out to take a can for herself, she could feel it.  


Ice covered her hands, growing with cracks and pops across her skin and driving spikes of bone-deep pain up her arms. Her hands started to shake and she hyperventilated as the burning cold climbed to her shoulders –  


And there was Vogel, holding her hands that weren’t frozen at all, breathing in her mangled energy and soothing her. Amanda took a ragged breath and pulled Vogel into a crushing hug. She met Martin’s eyes in the rear view, and he smiled. He eased his white-knuckled grip on the wheel.  


“We got you, Rowdy Girl,” he said in that low voice, “and we ain’t gonna let you go.”  


Amanda gave her biggest smile and leaned against the van wall. She kept Vogel close under her arm, and he curled up across her lap while he chattered away. Cross gave her a new beer and moved to sit beside them, wrapping Vogel up in the middle and bringing Gripps to his other side. 

*

Martin was the hunter. He could follow anyone, anywhere. He found places to stay, food, and all-important beer. He’d found an abandoned farmhouse for them and, having swiftly redecorated with a baseball bat and spray paint, Amanda discovered a miracle.  


Hot. Running. Water.  


She won the small brawl that broke out when the Rowdies discovered the working shower, and she wondered how hard they’d really been fighting her until she saw Martin smiling at them. She crowed in victory and slammed the door in their faces.

*

Amanda stood in the little bathroom and stared at the shower. It was over an old claw foot tub and the curtain around it was in shreds. The bath itself wasn’t too clean but she was in no state to judge; it would definitely get the worst of the grime off her and the drain appeared to be functioning. Knowing how clean she was about to feel didn’t quite ease the apprehension. Would the water be just water, or would it be a rain of knives? A torrent of fire? Or would her lungs fill up and try to drown her?  


She stared, undressed and afraid.  


“Hey,” a quiet voice said, just beyond the door. Gripps. “We got you.”  


Amanda allowed a small smile. Any other guys, any other girl, and it might have been weird. Amanda knew better. With a Rowdy outside the door, she gently turned the shower tap.  


It was just water.

*

Breezing out of the steamy bathroom with damp hair and a smile, Amanda left a trail of Rowdy-worthy destruction in her wake. The sink was full of hair she’d razored off, leaving her with a haphazard asymmetrical do that already felt lighter. She had promptly broken the mirror when she was done and found some old lipstick in a cupboard to scrawl a big 3 upon the shards.  


Gripps had come second in the shower brawl and quickly went in before another Rowdy could steal it. Amanda found the others in the kitchen, Vogel smashing a plate every now and then while Martin and Cross threw food in a pan, on the floor, and at each other. Amanda joined in with gusto, utterly missing Martin’s appreciative glance when he saw her hair.  


The sun had set when the Rowdies decided on a bonfire. They threw trash onto it in great plumes of spark and smoke. Amanda sat to catch her breath, leaving Vogel to storm his way through whatever steps he was attempting, and couldn’t help but watch Martin as he went back inside. They all noticed when one of them was away, she realised; it was the way they all placed themselves, like they were leaving a space for someone. She did it too. They still carried on laughing and making a mess together, but there was that air of expecting a friend to return.  


Amanda took the last beer from beside the fire, and went into the kitchen looking for more. After the heat and light from the fire, inside was a shock; the cold, dark air pressed in on her and she waited for a heart-stopping moment to assess if she was feeling actual pain or if a hallucination was about to arrive. The Rowdies weren’t far, and Martin was probably closest in the bathroom, she tried to reason against the beginning of panic. She took a step toward the bathroom before heaving a sigh of relief: the illness didn’t come.  


Martin opened the bathroom door in a cloud of steam. He still wore his glasses but the black leather and rings were gone, leaving him garbed in a towel slung low across his hips. Wet white hair had been shoved out of his face and Amanda couldn’t decide if she liked it. His chest and arms were covered in tattoos but Amanda couldn’t make out any more details in the poor light.  


“You alright?” He asked, taking a step closer and putting his hand out, ready to catch her or fight something. Probably both. Almost definitely both.  


“Yeah, fine,” she shrugged.  


There was a pause, and Amanda tried not to stare at the mass of artwork across Martin’s chest and shoulders. And stomach. She wondered if there were any on his back and tried to think of a polite way to ask.  


“You cut your hair,” Martin observed.  


“Uh, kind of. I want the lot of it gone but the razor blunted itself before I could finish. If you see some scissors or something around let me know.”  


Martin didn’t say anything. Was almost too afraid to say that she looked like a real Rowdy. He wanted her to stay so badly it frightened him; Martin couldn’t remember wanting anything since Before.  


“You sure you’re alright?” He asked again, watching her over the top of his glasses. He’d felt something from her, different to what he felt from the other Rowdies when something was wrong, but it was definitely not right all the same. He didn’t stop to question why he felt anything at all from her. If he questioned the universe too much it might wreak a horrible revenge.  


“Yeah, fine. I thought maybe an attack was coming, but I was wrong.” She looked down at her hands to make sure.  


Martin took a step closer, reducing the distance between them entirely in one long stride. “You know you don’t gotta worry about that shit anymore. We’ll always be here.” He said it in his low rumble that sent happy shivers down Amanda’s spine. Martin put a hand on her shoulder in one of the least affectionate gestures Amanda could imagine. “Say the word. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”  


Amanda knew it, too. These Rowdies, this beautiful impossible family, would do anything for each other – and that included her. She stared into Martin’s eyes, smiling, and felt his broad hand slide from her shoulder up to her neck. He gently pulled her into a hug, keeping one hand buried in her hair and snaking the other firmly around her waist. She lifted her arms to encircle his neck and fit into him so easily just as she did with Cross and Gripps and Vogel. It felt so right on a soul-deep level; every hug or arm around the shoulders brought so much happiness that she wondered how she could ever have been afraid to leave her house.  


There was something a little different about Martin, about being in his space, but Amanda had trouble trying to get to her instincts at the best of times. She’d just have to wait it out and hope it didn’t take too long.  


Amanda contemplated moving her face nearer to Martin’s neck. If she did, would her breath on his naked throat tickle him? She smiled at the thought, and of course Martin felt the movement of her face against his chest. He pulled away a little to look at her, half a smile on his face and his hands gloriously warm against her, and opened his mouth to say something – but suddenly looked away, sniffing deeply through his nose. He removed himself from Amanda’s space entirely, leaving her feeling a little bereft.  


“Somethin’s coming.” Martin growled. Without a further word he turned back to the bathroom. He ripped off the towel just as the door closed behind him, giving Amanda a split second view of half a tattoo-free ass.  


Amanda tried, not very hard, to not dwell on that little snippet of perv. She went back outside, excitement growing in her chest. The Rowdies were poised, quiet and ready. They could sense it too. Amanda looked from Vogel to Gripps to Cross, smiling. Something was coming for them, and the Rowdy Three – actually definitely now five – would be ready.  


Quicker than she thought possible Martin returned, dressed in torn jeans and leather vest, carrying two baseball bats. He passed one to Amanda, flipping it around to present the handle to her, just like he had that first night she spent with them. She smiled.  


“AWOOOOOOO!” Martin howled into the night. The Rowdies fed off his energy, howling and shouting in return. Amanda screamed with them, swinging the baseball bat in preparation.  


There, on the edge of the firelight, came the mysterious something. A group of men, mostly young and of the Nazi skinhead variety, emerged from the darkness. They were light on weapons but heavy on smirk.  


“Oy, this is _our_ place,” the skinhead leader declared. He carried a plank of wood with a couple of nails sticking out of it.  


“I fuckin’ doubt it,” Martin retorted. He swung at them with a yell, leading the Rowdies into delightful violence.

*

The fight was short and brutal. Amanda took out two men and sustained a grazed cheek. Her knuckles ached from punching and her throat hurt from shouting and she was so happy she bounced.  


“That was so sick!” She shouted. The last of the skinheads had fled, carrying their broken brethren back into the night. She danced around the bonfire with Vogel and Cross and Gripps, beers and baseball bats in hand.  


Martin sat on some old train seats, watching, smiling.  


Amanda threw herself down onto the seats beside Martin, laughing, winded from the evening’s activities. “So it appears you don’t like to dance,” she said with a smile.  


“I don’t like this song.”  


“Ok, what song _do_ you like?”  


Martin tilted his head as he thought. “Cross!” He pointed at the Rowdy in question. He changed the music with a smile. Martin got to his feet and held out a hand to Amanda. With a questioning smile she took it and let Martin pull her to her feet. Gently, slowly, he pulled her close in a traditional dance pose and carefully escorted her through a few simple steps around the fire. Gradually they built up speed until they were whirling around the flames, the other Rowdies running around them.  


And then the song finished and Martin came to a screeching halt, holding Amanda close. “I like that song,” he told her, a little out of breath.

*

The moon was full and high, and it felt close enough to Amanda to touch it if she wanted to. She smiled at her own silliness. Lying on a mattress from the farmhouse, surrounded by tall grass whispering in the breeze, Amanda could hardly believe it. She sensed that Vogel, Gripps and Cross were nearby, and sighed contentedly.  
She heard footsteps through the grass, and knew it was Martin before she saw him. He carried an armful of blankets and pillows and paused awkwardly at the foot of her makeshift bed.  


“I’m not sure it’s _that_ cold,” Amanda whispered, half sitting up. Martin carefully placed the bundle of warm on the bed anyway, and turned to go. 

“Wait.”  


He stopped immediately, alert. “What’s wrong?”  


“Nothing. I,” Amanda looked away, “it’s nothing.” _Don’t go._  


Martin looked at her over the top of his glasses. “You want me to stay?”  


“Yes.” It was barely a whisper. She couldn’t look at him.  


There was the briefest of pauses before Martin pulled some blankets apart for easy reaching later. Those careful movements enthralled Amanda; knowing that this was the same man who caved in skulls with ease just a few hours ago made witnessing this gentleness that much more intimate. With effortless grace he climbed over the blanket pile and lay down beside her, putting his hands behind his head and staring up at the night sky.  


Amanda lay back down and pulled a blanket up over herself. She stared up at the moon, acutely aware of the mass of charismatic violence next to her.  


“You feel different,” Martin volunteered at last.  


Amanda rolled over to look at him. “Huh?”  


“In here.” He tapped the side of his head. “You feel different.”  


“You’ve probably never met someone else with my condition. It’s kind of rare.”  


Martin shook his head a little. “That’s not it.” A lengthy pause followed. “Can you feel me? In there?” Martin rolled over to face her and gently brushed the side of her face with his hand.  


“I don’t know. I think so.” Amanda tried to concentrate. “I think, I think I can feel you all sometimes. I think I feel it most when I’m touching you, or the others.”  


“Like when we hug you?”  


“Yeah, like, I never really got the point of hugs until I met all of you, but now every time there’s a hug I feel so _happy_. It’s weird. I like it.”  


Martin was close enough to Amanda that he could easily put an arm around her. Instinctively she buried into his muscled frame, nestling in with her nose pressed against his chest and his chin atop her head. He smelled good, like rain and fresh air and a hint of leather.  


“Like now?” Martin’s low voice had an extra level of rumble when her face was pressed against his chest.  


“Exactly. Can you read my mind or something when we’re this close?”  


“It don’t work like that.” Martin took a deep breath. “It’s a lot more basic than that. We read the energy of people. We _feel_ the energy of people.”  


“Is that why you can eat it?”  


Martin laughed, actually laughed. “Yeah.”  


“So in what way am I different in your head?”  


“It’s like you’re a different colour. Or somethin’.”  


Amanda snorted. “I’m not sure if I should be offended or not.”  


“I think it’s a good thing.”  


“Ok, I’ll take it.”  


A comfortable silence fell before Martin asked, “how do I feel to you?”  


“Honest.” Amanda replied without thinking. “Permanent.”  


“Permanent.”  


“Yep.”  


Martin pulled her closer and dared to breathe her in.  


“Did you just smell my hair?”  


Martin froze.  


“You’re lucky I washed it.”  


He laughed again, but stopped as soon as he felt Amanda pulling away. Immediately he relaxed his arm over her.  


“Where are you going?” Amanda asked, propping herself up on one elbow.  


“You moved away.” It was all the explanation he could offer.  


Amanda smiled down at him. “I wasn’t going anywhere. I’m never going anywhere without you.” She got close again, and put her hand on Martin’s bearded cheek. It tickled. Slowly, with a wicked glint in her eye, Amanda brought her mouth down to meet Martin’s and kissed him gently.  


The energy running through Martin’s body from Amanda’s lips on his was incredible. He leaned into her and wrapped one arm around her waist to hold her tightly.  


Amanda shed her blanket and easily rolled herself on top of Martin, kissing him all the while. It didn’t take her all that long to figure out what made his breath come in short little pants, or to stop entirely. She ripped open his vest and shirt to graze her teeth down his neck and chest.  


At that Martin sat up, holding Amanda steady in his arms, and repaid the favour somewhat. With one hand in her hair and the other supporting her lower back, Martin bit and kissed Amanda’s neck. She sighed in pleasure. With his vest and shirt open, Amanda reached her hands around Martin and dug her nails into his back; he groaned, his mouth still against her skin. His mouth still moved along her neck and made her tremble.  


Dragging her nails around Martin’s sides resulted in increased pressure from his teeth along her neck. His hands gripped her tighter, pressing their bodies together. Amanda brought her hands to rest on Martin’s belt buckle. She paused and Martin immediately stopped. He angled himself away from her a little to give her space, but he couldn’t quite control his ragged breathing.  


“I haven’t had sex since I was diagnosed,” Amanda admitted quietly. She wouldn’t look at him, and instead kept her eyes focussed on the mass of tattoos splayed across his chest. “At first I was just scared that I might have an attack during, you know, and then I’d have to die of embarrassment. And then I stopped leaving the house and it’s kind of hard to meet people when you don’t want to go outside.”  


Martin watched her carefully. “We don’t have to.”  


“I want to.” She looked at him then. “I’m still scared I’ll hallucinate some shit and ruin everything. I’m so sick of being scared!” She declared. “So I get angry about it, which doesn’t make me any less scared, so now I’m shitty _and_ scared and I have no idea what to do about it.”  


“Sex ain’t gonna cure anything.”  


“I don’t expect it to. I just want to be able to want something and just do it, like a regular person.”  


Martin smiled a little. “You want me?”  


Meeting his intense blue eyes, Amanda felt the answer clearly. She rested her forehead against his. “So much.”  


“If you wanna stop, we stop. No questions. I promise.”  


“Does that mean that _you_ want _me_?” Amanda asked, her heart in her throat.  


“More’n you know.”  


Amanda kissed him again, and undid his belt buckle and jeans with her eyes closed. She pushed Martin back down onto the mattress and felt him fumbling with her pants. With a smile Amanda took his hands and put them above his head, and held them there. Straddling him and holding his arms captive, she could see – and feel – the effect it had.  


Her eyes widened in understanding. “I never would have figured you for a sub.” As soon as she thought it, it made sense; keeping the Rowdies safe meant always holding some sort of control in place. To trust someone enough to yield that control was huge and intimate.  


“Only for you.” Martin growled, half smiling, his eyes heavy-lidded in longing.  


“Don’t move,” she warned, and pulled his belt free from his jeans. She looped it around his wrists and immobilised his hands.  


Amanda removed her jeans and then pulled Martin’s down with aching slowness, moving with the confidence of knowing she had total control over the situation. When she at last moved to be on top of him, he arched into her with a moan. She gasped, steadying herself with her hands on his chest, and set a gloriously slow pace. Martin’s eyes rolled back in his head as he groaned.  


Tilting herself forward slightly meant resting her weight on Martin’s biceps. Her nails dug into corded muscle and had him moaning again, and Amanda found herself making the occasional whimper in return.  


She could see him getting closer to the finale, and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “don’t come until I tell you to.”  


Martin growled, turning that rumble into a long groan when Amanda bit his neck. She didn’t hold him in suspense for too long; when she felt her own pleasure peaking, she ordered Martin to join her. She clamped her teeth down on his shoulder to smother her screams as their bodies rocked and trembled together.  


Long moments passed before Amanda felt enough strength in her legs to move. She carefully released Martin’s hands and lay down beside him, fearing that if she moved too quickly she might collapse. His arms were around her again, and one hand found its way to the nape of her neck to nestle amongst her hair.  


“Do you think there’s any hot water left?” Amanda asked quietly.  


“You can _walk_ after that? I’m gonna need a minute.”  


“I could probably do more than just walk,” Amanda hinted with a smile. She put her pants and shoes on and sat on the edge of the mattress. Martin slowly pulled up his jeans, and had almost got them on when Amanda sprung to her feet. “You gotta catch me first.” She ran to the house, all energy and joy, laughing as she heard Martin coming after her. He caught her in the little hallway outside the bathroom but waited for her to kiss him first.  


Amanda pulled him closer by the lapels of his vest and kissed him long and hard. Martin put his hands against the wall to brace himself as he leaned into her, and smiled when she started to undress him.


End file.
